User blog comment:Biggren/The Southern Alliance/@comment-2246928-20150422222742/@comment-3135907-20150423014414

Since he is still sitting at the rail, Grivvin turns at the sight of the small band of eleven climbing over the rails, led by Scorge. The seasoned searat takes a step back and draws his backsword. He exchanges wicked glances with his crew, who draw steel in like manner as the slaver band's paws land on the deck and Scorge roars the attack. "Hahahaharr!" Grivvin Scravey bellowed, a deep laugh of condescension. "Who're these unfortunate devils, eh? Boathooks, pikes!" The crew that was on deck at the moment, which was a third of the total crew and numbered forty-three, backed up further from the spot on the rail at which the small vermin band had boarded, lowering into good long boathook and pike stances in a half circle around Scorge's vermin.